


Signum

by simplecoffee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Cuddles, F/M, Fainting, Fluff, Gen, Hospital scene, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I did not know that latter was a tag wow, Nat&Tony: Best Friends Forever (but you'll never catch them admitting it), Natasha is a closet softie, Schmoop, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Cuddles, Tony's kinda quiet when he's not feeling well, Vomiting, adverse reactions, non-consensual drugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/pseuds/simplecoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony needs a drink. Somebody spikes it.<br/>They're expecting him to pass out, but not - not like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keroseneSteve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keroseneSteve/gifts).



> For [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/18271.html?thread=42767455) on AvengerKink, asking for Tony suffering an adverse reaction to the combination of alcohol and a drug administered by would-be kidnappers. 'Cause Coffee!Anon and I are _connected_ , and she likes the Ao3 format better than that of LJ comments.
> 
> Think I hit all the bonuses, Coffee!Anon. ;)

Natasha sees the movement out of the corner of her eye, and immediately knows Clint caught it too. Tony's on edge from the evening of schmoozing, and knocks the scotch back before she can say a word.

She stays where she is, discreetly close. Keeps an eye on Clint, who's alerting the team, and the other on Tony, whose head is bowed.

Springs into action when he tries to stand.

" - Nat," he mumbles when she approaches, and she's expecting the swaying, the sweating, the confusion, but not -

\- not Tony stumbling aside with a hand clenched over his mouth, not his almost falling to his knees behind the bar and quietly, unobtrusively retching. Not his utter lack of response as she rubs his back and he heaves and spits again. Not his uncoordinated lolling as she pulls him aside and tries to get him to raise his head. Not his eyes fluttering shut while he is still, if hardly, conscious, barely able to support himself as he turns to throw up a third time. Not this collapsing by degrees. Not his sudden and total lack of words.

Steve's there in an instant, phone already out; dials 911 at a look from her. Coulson's got the sleight-of-hander; Clint, eagle-eyed, is rounding up the rest. Pepper's diplomatically turning people away with steely-masked panic in her eyes.

Bruce slips behind the bar and cradles Tony's shivering frame, murmuring formulae like a prayer, trying to keep the engineer conscious even as the traces of green fade from his own eyes. Natasha leaves go of his shaking hand to join Clint in the restraining operation - breaking in the process, perhaps, more bones than she strictly should. And when the ambulance arrives, it's Thor who carries their fallen comrade gently to its waiting doors.

*

 _He'll be okay_ , says Coulson's text.

Maria can't help but smirk a bit at the battered man she's just imprisoned. Turn to savour, as she leaves, the words _Mess with Tony, mess with us. _scrawled across his bared chest in blood-red lipstick.__

*

He wakes to blinding white sterility, ridiculous waves of dizziness, and a bunch of harried-looking teammates all for some reason in evening dress.

And a pair of arms holding him.

Which...are also, yeah, in evening dress.

"Pep?" he mumbles muzzily, and they tighten around him.

(He nuzzles her like a cat, because he's sick or something, hey, he's in a hospital with an IV and everything, and fuck it, he feels terrible, today he is not ashamed.)

"Tony?" says Steve from somewhere above him, and _something_ clicks into place and he's suddenly awake and alert and upright and -

"What," demands Tony, "the _fuck_ did they give me?"

"Ipecac," deadpans Bruce, "and activated charcoal."

"Got to you in time," adds Steve, sounding shaken, and yeah, looking blurred, but...yeah. The adrenaline fades as fast as it spiked, and Tony sinks back into Pepper's arms.

(She rests her chin on his head. She's not ashamed either. Pep is awesome. Also, he is totally wearing a pinstriped fucking suit.)

"Very funny, Big Green, what, I mean... _what_."

"Might even know if you hadn't drunk every drop."

"Heeey, if it ain't my favourite spider."

"Stark," says Natasha, patting the hand he just flapped at her, "you are a prize idiot." Then adds, "Clint, you owe me, I told you I'm his favourite."

Clint sticks his (blurry) tongue out at her.

"Blood tests," Tony insists.

"Inconclusive," says Coulson's voice - disembodied, because he's apparently closed his eyes. "Get some rest, Mr Stark. Don't worry; we've got you."

Clint says, "Thor carried you _bridal style_ , you oughta know."

"Verily," Thor affirms, "thy head nestled close against my throat. A necessary precaution, Golden One, in order to ensure your safety."

"Just _exactly_ like a princess."

"Shut up, Hawkass," mumbles Tony affectionately, tucks his IV-ed arm around Pepper, thinks fondly of how she'll yell at him later, makes a mental note to reassure Jarvis, and then proceeds to fall asleep.

Though not before he feels the lightest of kisses placed ever so gently on his hair.

(The whiff of perfume that accompanies it belongs unmistakably to the Widow. He could swear it - but they both know he won't.)


End file.
